


More Than A Brother's Duty To Her

by Musicteaandbooks



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Funeral, No Incest, Pregnant, Sadness, dead dad, for real tho, idk if I'll continue this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-08-17 12:24:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8143967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Musicteaandbooks/pseuds/Musicteaandbooks
Summary: Hermione stayed, for Fred. And George? He helped, for Fred. One-shot currently, might continue if prompted.





	1. Chapter 1

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 4th June, 1998 (Thursday) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The funeral had ended hours ago, and twilight had begun its slow crawl across the sky, yet two figures remained at the freshly turned grave.  
George, for his part, was still struggling to reconcile that his twin, the counterpart he had never been truly separated from, was now lying cold and stiff and silent. The thoughts seem to circle round and round without ceasing. Never going to say the words I could never find...never going to crack another joke...never going to man the shop again...never going to ask that pretty bird out…On and on the never’s seemed to go, try as George might to stop himself, and often accompanied by silent tears he no longer had shame for.  
Hermione on the other hand, appeared a stone statue for all the sound or movement she made. The past weeks had been a rush, full of running from here to there trying to salvage battle scenes after the War. Mostly, she’d been running from the upcoming funeral and the grief sloshing around inside of her like unexpected tidal waves. It was horrible, all the deaths, but in her heart Hermione felt shame for grieving for Fred harder than anyone else. To see him dead in the Great Hall had been worse than being tortured by Bellatrix by far. But she’d never admit it. And who could know anyways? He was dead and she was alone and left with feelings that made Cho’s behaviour back in fourth year make a lot more sense.  
“You don’t need to stay you know, Granger.” George croaked eventually, mouth hoarse from racking sobs and misuse.  
“I know that,” she replied softly, “but I will. For you, and for him. I was too harsh on you two all those years you know, with the testing and whatnot. You are-or were,” she corrected herself quickly, “quite brilliant inventors. The theory and magic behind it is truly phenomenal.”  
George smiled morosely and shifted to give her a hug.  
“Thank you, Hermione. For everything”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 12th June, 1998 (Friday)~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hermione heaved a sigh and collapsed onto her couch. Work was long and arduous, and seemed to require a lot of standing and running. What she wanted more than anything was to sit and rest, and maybe eat pickles slathered in chocolate.  
Hermione opened her eyes in horror. Pickles and chocolate were disgusting. She rolled her eyes. Maybe grief gave people strange appetites, who knew? That might explain the weight gains recently. Not enough to be noticeable, but enough that Hermione didn’t particularly enjoy seeing the bathroom scale in the mornings.  
Putting discomfort aside, Hermione dragged her calendar out of the beaded purse at hand and began leafing through it for the upcoming weekend. Ginny was talking about going out and Harry and Ron wanted to meet for drinks along with about a hundred other people begging her attention for this or that Important Thing.  
“Lunch...shopping...dinner and drinks…” she murmured to herself, glancing at the pages where bright red ink seemed to jump out at her.  
A nasty feeling settled low in Hermione’s gut at the words, she slowly looking down to her stomach and calculating. She was overdue for her period. Which might have been expected with the war and being on the run and not eating if not for the fact that she’d somehow stayed regular the entire bloody year. And if she could be on time right down to the very day despite nigh on starving whilst using too much magic and fighting evil wizard armies, then five days late suddenly seemed rather significant.  
Signs began to clamour at her. The weight gain, the pickles and chocolate which really did speak for themselves, the emotions all over the place, the puking that morning which she had studiously refused to think about…  
But if she were pregnant, then the father- no. Hermione cut the thought off and jolted up. If the calendar were to be believed, she’d be six weeks along. With a flick she summoned her coat and scarf, apparating to the nearest corner store alleyway. 

Ten minutes later Hermione returned to her flat, arms full of pregnancy tests of all variations, only to see George casually sitting on her couch flicking through her Modern Magic and Theories Behind the Veil books. The boxes fell to the floor, her wand pointed in him and body in fighting stance.  
“George (if you’re George) you have fifteen seconds to tell me what you’re doing before I start hexing.”  
George stood up hastily, putting the books away and holding his hands up in surrender.  
“Hello to you too Granger.” he smiled slightly, if sadly, shoving his hands in his pockets when she didn’t move to hex him. “I’m here to ask why you stayed, at the funeral. Because I think there’s something you didn’t tell me, and he’s my brother. I deserve to know.”  
Hermione nodded, her hands twisting. After a moment, she sighed and gestured vaguely at the boxes on the floor.  
“Why don’t you get comfortable again because I’m not quite sure how much there is to tell.”

Hermione had left him in the sitting room reading after explaining that she had a couple of muggle tests she needed to take and that they could talk after. But at the rate things were going, Hermione wanted nothing more than to run away to Australia with her parents. Seven had come out positive, three were still debating on whether or not to ruin her life. Oh, no, wait, they were positive too.  
Hermione slid down the wall of her bathroom and began to cry. How could this happen? How could she be so irresponsible, stuck with a life she didn’t know or want while he was dead?  
“Granger? Hermione?” George’s voice floated through the door, concern laced with worry.  
“I’m-I’m fine,” she choked out. “One moment please, if you don’t mind.”  
When she emerged a moment later with the tests in had, he had returned to the sitting room. George twisted around as he heard her enter.  
Hermione hesitated, then pushed forward. ‘Best do it all in a rush if nervous’, she whispered.  
Even so, she sat down across from him, thinking quietly for a moment before looking George in the eye.  
“I’m pregnant. With Fred’s baby.”  
George’s eyes widened in surprise, slowly filling with tears. He tensed for a moment then moved to kneel in front of Hermione, hugging her. After a moment he pulled away.  
“Want to tell me the rest? Or, most of it anyways? I think I can work out how exactly you got pregnant,” he added with a wink.  
Hermione sniffled. It was clear George felt awful but she appreciated his trying to cheer her up.  
“I-well, I grew fonder of you two especially in the later years. Probably around fifth year what with Umbridge and the DA going on. But Fred...he was different. I mean of course he was. You two are identical in looks but you’re seperate people.”  
“Were. We were identical,” George corrected distantly.  
Hermione nodded sadly.  
“Right. Sorry, George.”  
He waved it away and she continued.  
“There were moments where I could have sworn he began to see me as a proper person and not just Ronald’s friend but it never went anywhere. Sixth year came about, and seventh year we were on the run, so I hardly saw you two again. But we listened to Potterwatch and that didn’t help. It felt as if I was getting to know Fred more because obviously we recognised your voices and I’m quite sure he was rodent, or rapier afterwards I guess. Then the battle of Hogwarts came. Everyone had their jobs given to them in the Room of Requirement and left and we ended up alone. Things happened, the wall fell later, he died, and I’m still unsure if he ever truly cared or if I was a pick-me-up before going off to battle.”  
Quiet fell again as she finished. Neither had a dry face and after a few moments of gulping and sniffling, George looked back at Hermione.  
“We always saw you as your own person, don’t forget that. Fred too. He was a player, we both were, but he wouldn’t sleep with you as a pick-me-up before going off to do battle I know that for a fact.”  
“Thank you,” said Hermione quietly. “I’d offer you a glass of wine but it seems I shan’t be drinking for a while.”  
George chuckled and ran his thumb in circles over her hand.  
“I’m quite fine without wine thank you very much.” He sighed and dragged a hand through his hair before continuing. “Listen, I’m here, alright? For anything. Come into the shop any time, tell me when you go for checkups, whatever. Because if you’ll let me, I’d like to help. To be involved. Fred would have, and he’d want me to, and that’s the child of my twin you’re carrying.”  
Hermione stared at him for a moment, then flew forward and hugged him.  
“Thank you. For that. I’ll need it I think.”  
He just laughed and held her, thinking of the small life she now carried and what it meant.


	2. Chapter 2

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 20th June, 1998 (Saturday)~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     “Verity I’m going to need you to close up shop alright? Duty calls I’m afraid.” George winked at his assistant and sauntered out the door, coat in hand. Once outside he sighed and raked a hand through his hair. Hermione’s cravings were disgusting, to say the least. On top of which, he wasn’t exactly sure what to do about Hermione and Angelina.

     On the one hand, Hermione wanted to keep her pregnancy a secret and George wanted her to move into his flat to make things easier. But on the other hand, he had Angelina. Whom he loved. And it seemed as if the choices currently lay as ‘Choose Hermione and thereby Fred, taking her in and keeping her secret’, or ‘Choose Angelina over Fred, thereby telling her about Hermione’s pregnancy and the fact that George would soon be living with someone other than his girlfriend' despite the fact that he’d turned down her offer to move in together. A bad business altogether.

     In the end, George stocked up on his faster-than-usually-depleted supply of alcohol and dropped off Hermione’s foodstuffs before heading home to get outrageously drunk, alone. Hermione knew George had stopped by at some point but, knee-deep in the throes of research, elected to ignore the tempting candies waiting on her counter. All around her lay bits of parchment pinned on the walls and books open to random pages as she switched between them muttering continuously.

“There has to be a way...they ought to have researched this by now…” she often repeated (usually with enough foul language to kill a man).

     On and on the night wore away until dawn had begun to rise and still Hermione was left without an answer. By the time George stopped by to remind her of the Weasley Sunday lunch, she’d fallen asleep across Necromancy: A Guide To The Fouler Artes.

“Hermione? Hermione wake up we’ve got to leave soon,” George said quietly, shaking her shoulder.

“Mmmfff go ‘way,” she grumbled. George rolled his eyes.

“Hermione you have three seconds to wake up or I’ll go to that lunch myself and tell mum you’re pregnant with-with Fred’s child.”

Hermione bolted upright and snarled at him, but was soon showered and dressed. “That wasn’t funny in the slightest,” she hissed at him as they walked to her floo. “You’ve got no right to tell anyone about this and you know it!” George made some noise of assent but didn’t really say anything as he flooed away, Hermione soon following him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Weasley Sunday Lunch, 21st June, 1998~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     If you asked Hermione, lunch was awful. Nausea rolled through her in waves and the most random of smells set it off. Worse, she was starving and ate nearly as much as any of the Weasley boys, a feat Hermione prayed Molly wouldn’t notice.

     George opted to sit by her the entire time which displeased Angelina greatly though the witch couldn’t put a finger as to why. More than once, Hermione heard her lean in and whisper to George about Hermione or ‘certain witches’ or ‘Ron’s friend’. And speaking of, Ron wasn’t too pleased about it either, despite having no right to his feelings for Hermione. After yet another snide ‘You and George were awfully closely timed in your floo arrivals” remark, Hermione snapped.

“Ronald Weasley! If you have any implications you’d like to go right out and say, I suggest you do so now or I might very well hex you!” she said angrily. Ron’s eyes narrowed but he hesitated for a moment before taking a deep breath and plunging into the coming storm.

“Oh so it’s my fault now that you’ve gone from one twin to the other? Don’t think I didn’t notice you listening to Fred all those times on Potterwatch! And I suppose you’re just switching to the next best thing now he’s gone? I knew you had a thing for quidditch players but Merlin’s saggy left Y-front Hermione! Tell me,” he changed attitudes faster than an adder, leaning forward face shining with spitefulness Hermione’d rarely seen before.

“Did you ever get them to share? Hoping for a quickie before running off to fight Voldie? It’s no wonder Krum left as soon as he could.” Ron spat in disgust. The table went silent, all eyes on Ron and Hermione in shock. It seemed nobody knew where to look.

Hermione, meanwhile, was near shaking with rage. George watched in stunned horror as she slowly picked up her tumbler of water and flung it in Ron’s face before standing up to better bring him to his knees.

“You dare,” she hissed back at him, “ _dare_ to suggest that I am a whore? That I am so indelicate as to sleep with your brothers with little to no regard as to the who’s and when’s of the matter? You didn’t seem near so inclined to worry about delicacy when you went ahead and got with half the remaining female population once Voldemort was gone and you weren’t stuck in a tent with me! You didn’t seem worried about public appearance when you lied to my face and said you loved me whilst sleeping with anyone who gave you a second look. Fuck you Ronald!” she screamed.

Hermione spun in the wake of everyone’s shock and apparated away before anyone could do a thing. Behind her, Angelina slowly turned to George.

“Do you have anything to tell me?” she asked quietly. George gulped, realising that all eyes now rested on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently I'm to continue this. There's at least one other chapter after this (probably more, but I make no promises). Thanks for the comments and encouragement. Your kudos and words of love are what keep me writing.


	3. Malfoy

George held the crying witch in front of him and thought back over the last 24 hours. Somehow, _ somehow _ , he’d gotten away from that luncheon without much of a fuss. Aside from chewing out his brother for a good few minutes that is. Angelina was off somewhere sulking and wouldn’t return his owls but that was hardly anything new if truth be told. 

    He shook Hermione gently. “Hermione? You alright?”

“Mmhmmm,” she murmured, eyes closed. 

He sighed. The witch was falling asleep at the most random times lately. Shifting the witch to lie on the couch so he could stand, George tiptoed into her small kitchen. 

    Books covered every flat surface, ranging from cookbooks to arcane magics he wasn’t sure was safe to even touch. But that was Hermione for you, he thought with a shrug. Casually learning battle magic and spells the Ministry had forbid long ago, then cooking and cleaning and working in a small Ministry department as if she were a normal house witch. 

    George snorted and reached for the firewhiskey above the stove. Pouring a glass he pulled out a stool and sat down. 

“What’re you researching so much Hermione?” he murmured, grabbing the nearest pile of spell books. “ Necromancy For Beginners ? What the fuck?” George frowned, glancing at the other titles.  Theories Behind The Veil , Necromancy, A Guide to the Fouler Arts , and a few others in foreign languages filled out the rest of the pile of books. A nasty feeling settled down George’s spine as he carefully opened  Necromancy For Beginners . 

    “Animate the dead...Astral Projection...Beltane rituals...breath of life?” George slammed the book shut, trying to forget the illustrations that ran alongside the index. He shivered. Behind him the fireplace flickered and spat, turning to an acid green instantly and casting long shadows against the apartment. In a heartbeat George had his wand drawn as he carefully moved back to the living room where Hermione lay sleeping. 

  “MMffgghhh...Granger you really ought to upgrade this. Does comfort mean nothing to you?” a voice echoed out of the floo where a figure spun into sight and elegantly stepped onto the carpet, shaking dust from his suit. George’s hand stiffened on his wand.

    “Malfoy,” he drew the name out warily, “Why are you flooing into Hermione’s apartment and how did you get her floo grate?”

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. “I see I’m not the only person Granger has yet to trust.” 

He strode over to where George stood still in a defensive stance, and settled into an armchair. A wave of his wand and a mug of tea was floating towards him from the kitchen.

“Granger,” Malfoy said with a long suffering air, “Came to me with questions and I answered them. Bit more difficult than how to prank somebody, you see.” He said arrogantly. “Possibly why she clearly hasn’t informed you of our partnership.”

George sank into another armchair, taking in what Malfoy was implying. Dark Arts books, forbidden spells, necromancy, a Malfoy...he shook his head, then prodded Hermione till she woke.

“Oi. Mind explaining this?”

    Hermione yawned. Stretching, she slowly sat up and looked around. George saw her understand the question when she looked at Malfoy and the books now spread out across her coffee table. 

“Malfoy and I were going to try and bring Fred back from the dead.”

There was a sharp intake of breath. Of course they were, George thought. He just hadn’t expected her to say it so bluntly. There’s Hermione for you, he thought sarcastically.

Malfoy, meanwhile, was watching the two interact with a bored expression. He waved his wand again. This time a bottle of firewhiskey came flying out of the kitchen.

“Since some of us are clearly in need of a drink,” he said dryly. George stared at him.

    After a long swig, or three, George turned back to Hermione.

“Mind explaining why the hell you’re being this stupid?”

Malfoy snorted, ignoring Hermione’s death stare. With a flounce she faced George again and sighed.

“I...already know enough of blood magic to know that there’s probably something out there that can bring Fred back. Between your being his twin and my carrying his offspring, we have the two most important ingredients that most spells would require.”

“Well when you put it that way!” George said sarcastically. “Are you crazy? Were either of you ever planning on letting me know about this? Or am I going to be some occult sacrifice here?”

Malfoy rolled his eyes. 

“Such drama, Weasley.” he said.

George snorted and took another drink. “Hang on a moment before you lot try to explain. Let me just get myself horribly drunk first.”

Hermione stared for a moment before whipping her wand at the bottle of alcohol. It exploded loudly, glass and firewhiskey flying everywhere. Silence. Both men stared at her in horror.

“Could either of you try to be the least bit helpful?” She asked shrilly. George shrank into his seat in shame. Hermione rounded on him in an instant. “Don’t you think I loved your brother as you did? And what are you doing about it? Nothing! You’re doing nothing save getting yourself drunk every night when I’m asleep or when you’re alone and crying about it.  _ Are you a wizard or aren’t you _ ?” she hissed. Across from them, Malfoy snickered. Immediately Hermione turned to the other man in the room.

“And you! Don’t think you’ve been anything other than horrid this evening!” 

Malfoy stared, eyes wide in surprise and quite possibly fear. Hermione continued.

“Ever since you flooed over here,  _ without owling me I might add _ , I’m quite sure you’ve been a right ass from the start! Sitting there making snarky comments and letting George pin all his anger and blame on me when you’re just as invested in this project! Do you understand the concept of common decency and manners or shall I need to tutor you on that as well?” Hermione was standing now, shaking with pent up rage. And wisely, neither man said a word during or after her tirade. Sighing, Hermione pointed vaguely at the two still sitting.

“You, you two are going to sit here until both of you understand everything that is going on. I’m going to bed.”

Hermione turned and padded down the hall as if nothing had happened, silence echoing in her wake.

George stared for a moment, then turned back to Malfoy who was looking rather shell shocked.

“You’d better start explaining. I don’t doubt Hermione’s warded this room against us until we’ve explained enough,” he said wearily.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments. This started as a one-shot and now it's continuing. Strange. Anyways, if y'all liked it, if you have ideas or suggestions, please let me know because I don't have a specific plot for this all written out (unlike Slytherin, for example) and I'm basically just going with the flow. Have a good day!


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